“What game?”
Dad studied my face.
His expression shifted from surprise to concern.
“Sarah? Are you all right?”
I could barely answer.
“Emily told me about a game where you make her close her eyes.”
Dad looked at the rubber duck in his hand.
Then he gave a gentle, understanding smile.
“Oh,” he said softly. “The guessing game.”
I blinked.
“The what?”
“Guess the sound.”
He raised the rubber duck and squeezed it.
A loud squeak filled the bathroom.
Emily giggled.
“See, Mom? That was the duck! I knew it!”
Dad placed the toy on the edge of the bathtub.
“Emily, would you like to show Mommy how we play?”
“Yes!”
He turned to me.
“A few months ago, Emily got shampoo in her eyes during a bath. It frightened her more than we realized.”
I remembered that evening immediately.
She had cried when the shampoo stung her eyes, and afterward, washing her hair became a daily struggle.
Sometimes she refused to tilt her head backward. Other times, she clamped her eyes shut before anyone even touched the shampoo bottle.
I had tried reassuring her.
Daniel had purchased special tear-free shampoo.
But Emily continued to dread having her hair washed.
Dad explained that one evening, while helping with her bath, he'd remembered a little game he'd once played with me.
He'd asked Emily to close her eyes so the shampoo and rinsing water wouldn't bother them.
Then he had squeezed the rubber duck.
“Guess what made that sound,” he'd said.
Emily had immediately answered, “Duck!”
So he'd tried something else.
He tapped the little plastic cup against the edge of the tub.
She guessed incorrectly and burst into laughter.
Then he gently shook a water bottle.
Before long, she'd become so absorbed in identifying the sounds that she barely noticed the water being carefully poured over her hair.
The game had worked.
And naturally, Emily wanted to play it again.
Dad explained the rules.
Every correct guess earned Emily one imaginary star.
After ten stars, she could choose a small reward, usually an ice cream during their weekend outing.
Sometimes, instead of guessing sounds, she tried to identify objects by listening to the way they touched the water.
The cup made a gentle tapping noise.
The plastic boat created a soft splash.
The rubber duck squeaked.
Dad even invented silly sound effects when she was particularly nervous.
Their game had transformed a stressful routine into something Emily looked forward to.
I stood in the doorway, struggling to process the enormous difference between what I'd imagined and what was actually happening.
My mind had constructed an entire nightmare.
And there, in front of me, was an old man using a rubber duck to help his granddaughter overcome a childhood fear.
I felt tears gathering in my eyes.
Dad seemed to understand.
“You were worried,” he said quietly.
It wasn't a question.
I nodded.
“Yes.”
Emily looked between us.
“Why was Mommy worried?”
I knelt beside the bathtub.
“Because I didn't understand your game, sweetheart.”
“But I told you Grandpa wasn't doing anything bad.”
“I know you did.”
Dad placed the cup down.
“Sarah, you don't have to feel embarrassed.”
I looked at him.
“I thought—”
My voice broke before I could finish.
He shook his head gently.
“You don't need to explain every thought that crossed your mind.”
“But you're my father.”
“And you're her mother.”
Those words made me cry harder.
Dad continued.
“If something involving your child worries you, you should check. Always.”
I wiped my cheeks.
“I should have just asked you.”
“Yes,” he said kindly. “We could have talked about it. And I should have explained the game to you from the beginning.”
He glanced toward Emily.
“I told her not to give away the mystery of the sounds because surprises made it more fun. I never intended her to think it was something she needed to hide from you.”
I took a deep breath.
“That was the part that frightened me most.”
Dad nodded thoughtfully.
“Then I made a mistake. Children need to understand the difference between a playful surprise and a secret they feel obligated to keep.”
I appreciated that he wasn't angry or defensive.
He was willing to acknowledge that even harmless intentions could cause confusion.
Emily raised her hand dramatically.
“Can I say something?”
We both turned toward her.
“Yes, sweetheart,” I said.
“Can we finish washing my hair? I'm getting cold.”
Dad laughed.